When Cars Collide, So Do We
by TrekkieL
Summary: One shot. "Sherlock?" "Yes John?" "Love you..." "Love you too." "No, Sherlock. I love you." When John and Sherlock are involved in a car accident, their lives change forever, but is it for the better or the worst. A Johnlock hurt/comfort fic, lots of fluffy mush and some drama. Some worried Lestrade involved. Sorry about poor title. Please read and review!


Sherlock fanfiction

Hey everyone. This is my first Sherlock fanfiction. I recently became a fan and I am NOT regretting it! This is, as it always is with me, a hurt/comfort fic.

I do not own anything (Although I wish I did!)

Spoilers for seasons 1 and 2

ENJOY! :D

"Just once, can you two behave like grown-ups? This is a matter of national importance. Grow up!" Sherlock laughed as John made a surprisingly accurate impression of Mycroft at Buckingham palace during the case involving 'the woman'.

"Get off my sheet." Sherlock chuckled. John laughed too and turned his head to look out the window, watching as the lights of London zoomed past in a blur of multiple colours.

Both John and Sherlock were in a taxi on their way from a two day long case. Sherlock was beginning to consider asking Mycroft for their own taxi, due to the fact the cabbies never stopped for the two anymore.

Sherlock suspected it was due to the fact they would be covered in blood most times or because Sherlock had recently begun collecting body parts for experiments. But today was not one of those days. They were _not_ covered in blood and they _didn't_ have a bag of body parts.

The case had been a 4 at most, and fairly simple to solve, but the fact it was 6 hours away from Baker Street annoyed Sherlock, but he had been so _bored_ and it had been two months since he'd last been on a case... so he took it.

John tagged along too, of course. Sherlock had told his flatmate that he was taking a case up north. Sherlock could tell by John's facial expression and the way he had asked 'how long are you going to be gone?' that John was unsure… no,_ scared _of being alone, so Sherlock invited John to join him.

It was half an hour past midnight and John tried not to think about how much he wanted to be in bed rather than in a taxi for 6 hours, but Sherlock had reminded him that they were almost back and that he _could_ have stayed at the flat.

John sat on the right next to Sherlock in the back of the taxi, quoting previous cases. Sherlock stopped laughing and looked at John to say '_Welcome to London_', but stopped when he saw John half asleep in his seat, his eyes closed.

"John?" Sherlock half whispered and gave his friend a nudge. John didn't respond. He tried again.

"John!"

"Wha?" John startled and sat up straight in his seat, pulling down on his jumper before relaxing.

"Sorry, _what?_" Sherlock glared at him.

"You haven't slept in 3 days, you've been going to your room and claiming to go to bed but you _haven't _slept." Sherlock stated matter-of-factly.

"Everything alright back there? I heard shouting." the cabbie looked into the front mirror. Sherlock tried his best to look sincere.

"We're fine, thank you. Watch the road please. It makes John nervous." Sherlock replied and turned back to John. "I may be a high functioning sociopath but I still care. Tell me, _why_ haven't you slept?" Sherlock asked.

"You should have deduced it by now. Can we talk about this another time?" John replied, clearly getting annoyed. "How do you know this anyway?" John turned to look at Sherlock.

"Bags under your eyes, simple. Also, the lack of conversation over the past few days, you didn't post a blog yesterday, you've been slouching in your chair rather than sitting upright, you've fallen over twice in the past 24 hours... Do I need to continue?" Sherlock asked.

"Nope. You are bloody brilliant though." John mumbled and rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock looked at John on his shoulder, surprised at the action that he hadn't even deduced would happen, but he wasn't complaining. He found that the small action made him feel warm inside. He smiled, but was still concerned.

"John? Are you_ sure_ you're alright?" he asked. John nodded on Sherlock's shoulder and Sherlock placed his hand on top of John's, which was resting in his lap.

"Sherlock?" John didn't look up or attempt to pull his hand away.

"Yes John?"

"Love you."

"Love you too John." Sherlock chuckled. The cabbie gave a yell of frustration before complaining about 'bloody traffic' as he drove into a four way intersection.

"No, Sherlock. I mean it. I love you."

Sherlock looked at John, who had just buried his face in Sherlock's coat, obviously scared of what Sherlock would say, what Sherlock would think. An average human would assume that John was drowsy and didn't know what he was saying, therefore they would go with it, but Sherlock wasn't at all like an average human and after deducing John's actions, he could tell that wasn't the case and John was, in fact, telling the truth. Sherlock smiled, for he had felt the same way about john for years.

"Sherlock? Say something please." John mumbled into Sherlock's coat. Sherlock ran a hand through johns hair to re-assure John and was about to answer, when a lorry came at them from the right and slammed into the side of the taxi.

* * *

Lestrade was the first on the scene. He had been told about a collision on the intersection of Crawford Street and Gloucester place. He arrived with Anderson, Donavon and Mycroft with three ambulances, a fire engine and a police car.

The taxi was over turned in the middle of the road, but it couldn't be passed off… Hell, it couldn't be _recognised_ as a taxi. The windscreen was shattered and glass littered the ground around it. The paint of the taxi had been scratched in various places, especially where the lorry hit and where the car was thrown 30 meters across the road.

The front of the lorry looked slightly crumpled and the bumper had fallen off, probably due to slamming into the taxi. The driver of the lorry was unconscious on the wheel. Lestrade guessed he hit his head on the wheel, but then he realised the driver wasn't wearing his seatbelt. Lestrade motioned to Mycroft to check it out.

Mycroft opened the door of the lorry and nearly gagged at the strong stench of alcohol. There were 3 bottles under the driver's seat. This led Mycroft to two conclusions. 1, the driver passed out due to mass amounts of alcohol while driving or 2, the driver was too drunk to stop in time. Either way, the driver of the lorry was arrested immediately.

An explosion brought everyone out of their thoughts as flames danced around the upturned car. Lestrade spun around quickly before cautiously walking over to the car. The firemen leapt out the fire engine and began to set up the hoses. Mycroft warned Lestrade not to go near the wreckage and that whoever was in the taxi was most likely dead by now and that if the crash hadn't killed them, the explosion would have.

Lestrade wondered who was in the taxi. The only people he knew who took a taxi at one in the morning were Sherlock and John after taking a case.

Lestrade froze on the spot. Crawford Street and Gloucester place. Baker Street was two streets down. They'd been with him at a case 6 hours ago up north… _oh no_.

"SHERLOCK! JOHN!" Lestrade broke out into a run and sped towards the burning car. Mycroft caught on and stood frozen, fearing for his little brother and hoping Lestrade was wrong. One of the firemen ran after Lestrade and grabbed him, pulling him away from the wreckage.

"SHERLOCK! JOHN! _OH GOD_, NO!" Lestrade couldn't bring himself to look away from the burning car. The fireman kept pulling him away from the wreckage.

"Sir, whoever was on there is most likely dead. I'm sorry sir." the fireman reminded Lestrade, earning him a punch in the face.

"They can't be!" Lestrade yelled at said fireman, who had his hand up to his now broken nose.

"I'm sorry sir. There's..."

"SHUT UP!" Lestrade held a finger up, attempting to shut the man up once more. "Oi, can you hear that?" Lestrade asked the fireman. "EVERYONE SHUT UP!" Sure enough, silence fell over the intersection, save for one small sound. Weak coughing.

Lestrade and Mycroft both recognised the deep voice of the world's only consultant detective and made a run for the car. Before they got too far, they could see a dark shape emerging from the vehicle engulfed by flames.

As the shape entered a beam of moonlight, Lestrade could see the skinny, pale figure of a clearly weakened Sherlock carefully dragging the unmoving form of John Watson, obviously trying his best to refrain from further injuring the doctor.

Mycroft scanned the burning taxi and wondered how the hell Sherlock had survived and was still conscious. Then, he noticed the puddle of petrol leaking from the taxi behind where Sherlock and John were emerging. Mycroft pointed it out to Lestrade.

"Sherlock! Get down!" Lestrade called out. Sherlock looked confused but obliged. As soon as his hands touched the ground, the petrol caught alight and the taxi blew again. Sherlock threw his body over John's, protecting him from flying debris. Sherlock cried out as a large piece of shrapnel lodged itself into his shoulder. He rolled off John and tried his best to ignore the pain as he put his ear to John's chest and clutched John's hand in his own.

"Help… _please_!" Sherlock tried his best to shout, but it came out as a strangled gasp. Lestrade wasted no time or punches running to his two injured friends, followed closely by Mycroft. Upon reaching them, they found Sherlock was close to unconsciousness and John's chest lacked its regular rise and fall. "John… h…help John." And then Sherlock blacked out.

* * *

When Sherlock awoke, he was blinded by the white room. Sherlock scowled slightly as he realised he was in a hospital ward, more a bed with a curtain around it. He assumed it was St. Bart's hospital. It would be logical to assume because it was the closest hospital in the area.

Sherlock tried to move his head to get a better look at the ward and find his means of escape, but that plan backfired when he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder.

"Damn, now I know how John feels." Sherlock humbled to himself. His eyes widened in panic as he shot up, now completely oblivious to the pain in his shoulder. "JOHN!" Sherlock swung his legs over the edge of the bed and quickly attempted to stand, but his legs immediately gave way and he fell in an ungraceful heap on the floor. A nurse ran in with a rather battered Lestrade.

"Sir! _Please_ stay in your bed!" she half scolded him as she helped him back into the bed.

"NO! John!" Sherlock tried to yell back at her, but his voice broke and he sounded rather pathetic. "Please… I _need_… to see him. I _need_ to know… know he's alright." He tried the _poor-patient-begging-and-close-to-tears _approach, but the nurse was rather stubborn, which upset Sherlock further because it reminded him of John. Lestrade thought his heart would shatter.

"I'm sorry sir, but you are not permitted to leave your ward. Are you related to John in _any_ way?" she asked in a smooth, yet strict voice.

"He's my boyfriend." Sherlock replied almost immediately with no hesitation what-so-ever. The nurse looked shocked, as did Lestrade.

"Well, I will go and check on your… _boyfriend_… for you if you promise to stay here. Ok?" Sherlock nodded and the nurse went to find out where John's ward was. Lestrade stepped forward.

"Sherlock? You ok?" Lestrade asked, but mentally kicked himself. "No, sorry. I know you're not." Sherlock ignored him.

"I'm fine. John? How's John? He… he wasn't breathing…" Lestrade could have sworn he saw Sherlock wipe a tear from his face, but he didn't say anything.

"Um… the taxi driver's dead… erm, the lorry driver was drunk so he crashed into you... and he got arrested and... John was... He was brought here with me in an ambulance. He took… more damage as it hit from the right hand side… and we… we had to... Erm, we had to preform CPR twice. He's ok though, I... I think."

"You're stammering. You're clearly traumatised and shocked, you're upset and confused and you haven't... Slept..."

"Sherlock?"

"I was having a conversation with John before the crash. I mentioned that he hadn't slept. He's been having nightmares, bit not about war. When he had nightmares about war, he would get some tea and go back to bed, but these nightmares... He's refraining from going to sleep. He's desperate for them to stop. I don't know what..." Sherlock was interrupted by the nurse, who has just entered the ward.

"Well, Mr Holmes. It appears your brother has taken your situation… and your relationship with John Watson… quite seriously." She smiled.

"What… do you mean? He doesn't… doesn't even know." Sherlock was confused. Since when did Mycroft have any reason to intervene or assume anything was happening between him and John? He had only found out himself in that taxi.

"See for yourself." she smiled again as she pulled part of the curtain to his left away, revealing another ward with a certain doctor John Watson lying in the bed.

"Let me see him..." Sherlock demanded, but failed miserably when his voice cracked. The nurse went to lay Sherlock back down on the bed, but Lestrade stopped her.

"Look. This guy is not gonna let a 3 meter distance and the inability to walk get in-between him and John. I suggest you let him see John. If you don't, he will make sure you get fired. His brother works for the government."

"Ok... Um. Can you help him over then?" the nurse backed away and took the charts from the end of both Sherlock and John's beds and began to fill them in.

Lestrade moved a chair next to John's bed and helped Sherlock to stand. He put his hand around Sherlock's too thin frame to steady him and Sherlock put an arm over Lestrade's Shoulders.

Lestrade sat Sherlock down on the chair and watched as Sherlock immediately clasped johns hand is his own and rested his head on the edge of the bed next to Johns.

"John. You're a doctor, and I know you're supposed to talk to people when they're in a coma, which I know you're not, you're just unconscious. I just want to increase your chances of recovery. I need you to be ok. You're a soldier _and _a Doctor. You're strong, John."

"I remember what you said in the taxi, that you loved me. I've _always_ loved you, John. I love it when you laugh, when you compliment me and tell me how amazing I am, when you tell me I'm an idiot, when you stick up for me when people call me a freak or a psychopath. I love everything about you John Hamish Watson, and I'd be lost without my blogger… without _you_."

Lestrade watched from the side with tear-filled eyes. It was almost painful to see the two like this, so vulnerable and broken. Sherlock let tears flow freely down his face as he tightened his grip on John's hand, gently rubbing circles on the back of John's hand.

"Sherlock, do you want me or need me to stay?" Lestrade put a hand over Sherlock and John's joined hands. Sherlock didn't even raise his head.

"No. Thank you, Lestrade, but I want you to go home, get something to eat and get some sleep. I will also need you to go and see Mrs Hudson and tell her we are ok. She'll be worried." Lestrade nodded.

"Of course, Sherlock. Let me… let me know how he is in the morning." Lestrade pat Sherlock on the shoulder before turning to leave the ward.

"Ok, Mr Holmes. I'm gonna need you to…" the nurse started but once she saw the two, she smiled and waved her hand. "It doesn't matter. I was going to wake him up, but if you're comfortable..."

"Wake him?" Sherlock lifted his head and would have leapt from his seat if it wasn't for his tightly bandaged shoulder. "Yes. Wake him now! Please!" Sherlock couldn't stop the grin spread on his face.

"Of course." The nurse smiled back. "I'll just need to inject him with some Prednisone and then I'll have to monitor him for a few minutes." She informed him.

"Yes, yes, standard hospital protocol. I understand. Wake him!" Sherlock began to get impatient. The nurse carefully injected John and stood to the side. John's breathing became deeper and faster and his eyes flickered open.

"John!" Sherlock gripped John's hand with both of his and smiled. "I love you too, John!" John laughed and Sherlock looked confused. "What? Not a good time?"

"Oh, it's the perfect time. Only, you're only supposed to talk to people when they're in a coma, you numpty!" John giggled. Sherlock began to grin.

"You heard what I said?" John looked at Sherlock and sighed happily.

"I'd be lost without you too, Sherlock."

"I love you John."

"I love you too." John shifted in the bed and made a space beside him, patting it and motioning for Sherlock to join him on the bed. Sherlock pulled himself up besides John before the nurse could stop them. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and pulled him closer to his chest. John instantly relaxed in his arms. "Sherlock?"

"Yes, John?" Sherlock began running his hand through John's hair as he pulled John even closer.

"I'm glad that driver was drunk." Sherlock pulled John away and stared straight into his eyes.

"Are you absurd? You could have died!" Sherlock all but yelled at him. John smiled and buried his face in Sherlock's neck.

"Do you think we would be doing this right now if we had got back to Baker Street?"

"I suppose not, but…"

"No buts. Just, stay with me." John begged.

"Of course."


End file.
